


grape flavored lip balm

by Mildredo



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, New Captain, Post 3x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildredo/pseuds/Mildredo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been <i>such</i> a weird week. (3x01 New Captain reaction fic, post 'screw light and breezy')</p>
            </blockquote>





	grape flavored lip balm

Charles leaves with an excited giggle and as the door clicks shut behind him, the moment of sharp clarity in Amy’s mind begins to fold in on itself, becomes muddy and panicked and questioning of every decision she’s ever made. Her hands are shaking.

Why are her hands shaking?

She rushed over to Jake’s apartment fueled by adrenaline but now she’s here and he’s smiling and there’s nothing left for the adrenaline to do except make her tremble.

But Jake’s smiling.

Because of her.

That’s new.

Maybe not that new, in retrospect. But he’s not smiling because she did something embarrassing or because they just solved a case. He isn’t smiling that ridiculous grin he has when he thinks he’s funny. He’s not smiling at her as a friend or a colleague or an idiot. He’s just smiling at his girlfriend. And his eyes are soft and happy and he’s biting his lip just a little bit and Amy’s hands cannot stop shaking.

Jake takes her hands. He hooks their fingers so their fingertips are pressed together and they feel steadier like this. Not as shaky. Amy doesn’t feel so sick. She takes a deep breath and smiles back.

Has she not been smiling this whole time?

Jake’s going to think there’s something wrong. He’s going to think she thinks she’s made a mistake.

“Wanna sit?” Jake says and Amy nods. Jake doesn’t have a wide variety of seating options in his tiny apartment so they end up on the bed. Amy toes off her shoes before swinging her legs around and plumping the pillows behind her. Jake does not.

The silence lasts three seconds or possibly three years. It’s hard to tell.

“I can’t believe the Captain’s gone,” Jake says quietly.

“Holt or Dozerman?”

“Both,” he shrugs. “Holt, mostly. But Dozerman too.”

“It’s been a weird week.”

Jake hums an affirmative. The back of his hand grazes the back of hers and, instinctively, Amy lifts her wrist enough to allow Jake’s to slide underneath so they’re pressed palm to palm, fingers interlocking.

“Not all bad, though,” Jake says, and Amy turns her head to face him. She squeezes his hand a little and he smiles like he’s looking at the best thing in the world. Her heart clenches as she realizes that maybe, to him, he is.

“No,” Amy says. “Not all bad.”

Her hands aren’t shaking any more, she notices, but all of her insides are. Her heart is beating hard and the steady thump is vibrating through her. She hopes her palms aren’t clammy.

It’s been _such_ a weird week.

Jake’s lips are really nice. That’s something the past few days have taught her.

Amy’s teased him before for keeping lip balm in his desk drawer, his pocket, his glove compartment. Now she’s kissed him, and she’s kissing him, it doesn’t seem worth mocking at all.

He’s been using the grape flavored one today.

Last night he tasted of vanilla cola.

Her insides are calm when he’s kissing her. He steadies her, grounds her. He knows her. She knows him.

This is unlike the start of any other relationship she’s had. It’s a beginning and yet so very much not.

Jake’s stomach growls audibly and he huffs a laugh against Amy’s lips, resting his forehead against hers. She looks into his eyes, sparkling and crinkled at the edges.

“Charles and I were going to dinner,” he admits. Amy sits bolt upright and swings around to put her shoes back on.

“Let’s go out, then,” she says, but Jake pulls her back onto the bed by her wrist.

“I don’t want to go anywhere else,” he says. Amy settles back against the pillows as Jake pulls up a takeout app on his phone and rests his free arm around her shoulder. She leans into him, resting a hand on his grumbling stomach, and presses a kiss to his collarbone. “What do you want?”

“Whatever’s going to get here before you waste away,” Amy laughs, scratching her fingertips against the cloth of Jake’s shirt, and Jake selects the Chinese place two blocks away with a grin.

It’s easy. They’re easy.

Jake knows that Amy likes duck and Amy selects the large portion of egg-fried rice because she knows Jake will insist he doesn’t like rice until it arrives and he eats half anyway.

It doesn’t feel new.

Amy isn’t shaking. She’s settled and comfortable and her heart isn’t racing.

It’s dinner with Jake. She’s had a thousand dinners with Jake. This time they’re lounging on his bed and kissing and holding hands but they’re still themselves.

They’re still bickering over the last egg roll and picking the peas out of everything because what kind of monster likes peas?

They’re eating and laughing and talking - talking about Holt and Dozerman and Gina, about work and cases and Die Hard and the homeless guy Amy buys a coffee for every morning.

And Amy cannot stop smiling.


End file.
